Demon of the Opera
by hono'o neko
Summary: Alexa Martin stumbles into the world of Phantom of the Opera, without any knowledge of either the movie or the book. I can't decide if Erik is more Leroux's phantom or Webber's phantom... -shrug- R
1. Chapter 1 lasso weilding psychopath

Been dying to write a Phantom fic for over a year now. And here it is!

Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux... and too many movie makers to even bother with.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

France! Paris! The Opera Populare!

Yes the Opera Populare! So beautiful, so classic, so…so…

Boring.

My name is Alexa Martin. My family is taking a vacation in Paris… and as much fun as that sounds… I'm bored out of my skull.

I'm about 5'3", black hair, I'd say it goes a little past shoulder length. I have chin-length parted bangs and one blue streak on my right.

You'll normally see me in a dark blue hoodie. It's ripped and worn in places, the elbow of the left arm is held together with safety pins… rather… all the holes in my hoodie are held together with safety pins.

My pants of choice are Tripp pants. The back hem on all of them is sort of ripped apart. I have assorted colors. Today I'm wearing my blue pair. It's sort of a blue day, not because I'm sad or anything. I tend to beat up the emo kids actually, but I digress. Finally my shoes, they're black canvas converse, they're about the only thing I wear that isn't completely ripped to shreds.

Hmm, anyway back to the Opera Populare. We're taking a tour here today. I don't know why, it's just a bunch of fat men in drag singing soprano, nothing much really to talk about, unless you're talking about the gold, half-naked statues that appear to be everywhere.

I wasn't even paying attention to the guy leading us around. After all, there's not much one can hear with a pair of headphones in their ears going full blast. I followed the group silently, looking at the paintings on the walls, how ornate the architecture was, what have you.

We stopped at the entrance to one of the boxes, box 5. As our guide talked everyone seemed to lean in, as if they were really interested. I guessed maybe that was the old King of France's private box or something back in the day. These old fools got excited over the stupidest things.

As the tour continued, and I made my way past the box I saw a shadow move. I paused mid step, turning my head to look up the stairs. I didn't see anything. I thought maybe a kid had gotten curious and run up to explore, and against my normal inclination to leave whoever's little brat to run off and do something stupid —I mean come on, if you can't watch your kids it's your own fault right? — I followed up.

"Alright you little brat. You shouldn't be playing up here, y' know." I said walking up the stairs into Box 5 "You're parents are going to get all worried and start yelling and bawling and-" The box was empty. "aaand I'm talking to myself." Sound coming from below caught my attention.

"Once more if you please Senora." I heard echo up from the stage. Well, while I'm here I might as well enjoy myself and catch a little bit of failed singing right? I mean most people pay for this experience.

I leaned up against the balcony staring down at the stage. There stood a woman dressed in a red dress, behind her stood a bunch of skinny girls with chains attaching their wrists together. My eyes drifted to the back wall of the room. Gold statues were backed against the walls, eyes covered, ropes around them. I was starting to see a pattern here. Bondage.

A shrill off key sound burst up from the stage, louder than my MP3 music, the sound nearly shattered my eardrums. Was that supposed to be singing? It was horrid! No wonder the Opera House had to resort to holding tours. No one wanted to come and have their ears assaulted by that! I flipped around to race out of the room and saw a curtain move out of the corner of my eye.

"Ah hah." I knew I wasn't crazy, the little runt was playing hide and seek. I walked to the curtain and pulled it aside quickly.

Nothing.

That was it. I had to have been crazy. I was actually going to leave this time, but I noticed something. A crack in the wall. These guys couldn't even bother to make their oh-so-special box look presentable. I ran my finger along the crack. It went all the way down to the floor, but stopped before it came up to my full height. Not only that, but the crack was perfectly straight. Another crack ran perpendicular to the first one, starting at the wall and ending where the vertical crack ended, and when I pushed on the crack, part of the wall gave way a little and then sprung back into place.

I placed my hand on the panel that gave way, then after a quick glace around, pushed on it. It gave way about an inch then made a click sound. I pulled my weight off of it and it popped out a little past the wall. It was one of those little magnetized cupboard type doors. I pulled it open and looked inside, not that I should be snooping around an opera house or anything, but who cared. Anything to make this place more interesting.

Thanks to poor lighting I couldn't see anything inside. It was pitch black. I reached my hand in, it definitely went farther than two feet, there had to be a light switch or something. I popped my head back out of the door and looked around. If I was going to be snooping then I needed to 86 the headphones.

The singing toad onstage was still screeching her heart out, I doubted any noise I made would be heard over that, and otherwise the box was quiet and devoid of life. Plus I figured I had a few minutes before anyone in the tour group got really worried about my absence.

I poked my head back into the hidden closet, running my hand up and down the nearby wall searching for a light. After a mini futile search, favored the guess that they had a little string attached to a light bulb in the center of the room instead. You know, one of those really old set ups. This place seemed to fail at modernizing anything.

I stepped in, and to my horror my foot didn't come in contact with the floor, in fact, it didn't come in contact with anything.

I flipped around as I fell, only to catch the light disappear from the door I came in through. I flipped and spun as I fell down the hole, slamming into the wall at least once in the process. After what seemed like a minute, everything opened up and I stared down at my reflection for a split second before slamming into it.

It felt like I had hit the ground, and it certainly knocked the air out of me, but it gave way as soon as I hit it. I automatically held my breath, reaching my arm out. It was water. I opened an eye, murky water. I pushed myself up with my arms and broke the surface gasping for air, my heavy ass clothes threatening to drag me under.

About two yards away was a ledge, it came about a foot over the water, and was made of old stone. See what did I tell you, lack of modernization. Who knows how much of that ledge had eroded and was just a hair away from crumbling. But it was dry ground.

I pulled myself up, and once out of the water pulled off my hoodie and let it plop, laden with water onto the dusty stone floor leaving me with just my black tank-top and my painfully heavy pants on. I wondered how I would possibly go about explaining this. I could come up with a lie about some stupid kid and a fountain or something, that is, if I didn't get caught trying to make my way back to the main floor by any security personnel.

I stood up, my waterlogged pants making it slightly difficult, and picked up my hoodie, wringing it out over the underground lake, wondering if I could do the same with my pants or if the risk of getting caught in my underwear by some security guard was too high.

I paused, mid thought, mid wringing, and froze. There was someone behind me. My brain raced. Security guard? Did they allow guns in France? What would someone think if they found some random person in the basement of the opera house? I went with security guard, loaded gun, freaked out, and raised my arm up to about eye level right as a rope slipped over my head and tightened.

I was pulled back slightly but fought against it, pushing my arm forward, effectively loosening the threatening lasso and spinning around, losing my footing on the stone ledge and plummeting back into the water.

I burst back out of the water screaming every profanity that I had learned in my 17 years of life, only to find a man, wearing half a mask and dressed in a turn of the century suit and looking at me with a vaguely horrified expression instead of a security guard.

"What the hell do you think you're looking at you turn of the century freak!" I snarled, fighting to keep myself afloat.

That seemed to snap him out of his horrified daze. With a loud crack he straightened out the noose-rope that I had neglected to notice a moment before.

Well f*ck.


	2. Chapter 2 in which the author WTF!

Chapter 2, in which the author thinks that every chapter will end in a profanity.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Teenage girl treading water VS nut job with rodeo skills.

He flung the rope towards me with great precision. I managed to bat the offending lasso away from my head with a hand last second, but that gave my pants just the opportunity they needed to drag me under again.

I kicked my legs which was a difficult endeavor in a giant pair of baggy pants. I could hardly get my pant-legs to budge in the water because of the weight, let alone the fact I kept getting tangled in them, but I somehow managed to move upward again. I shot an arm up and felt it break the surface of the water. As I swung it back down to assist the other in paddling I felt the coarse hairs of a rope scratch against my wrist. As the lasso around my wrist tightened I grabbed the taut end of the rope with my ensnared hand as I was towed through the water. With my free hand I reached out of the water and latched on to the rope above my ensnared one, which gave me a bit of needed stability.

Within seconds I was hoisted out of the water like a fish on a hook. I hung there, over the side of the stone ledge, both my hands holding on to the rope for fear of losing one of them or falling back into the water –maybe both–, glaring at an era-confused masquerading Frenchman with—like the rest of this building—a bondage complex.

He glared back at me with the same malice I felt towards him, but after a second his eyes softened, a smirk pulled across his face, and he spoke with slight amusement in his voice.

"You look like an angry half drown cat."

"I feel like an angry half drown cat. Now put me down so I can claw your eyes out." I snapped.

"I'm afraid that's the least of Erik's worries." His expression and voice changed to a slightly more serious tone.

"Erik?" I raised an eyebrow. Was there someone else around here? This Erik? a real security guard perhaps? And was this guy here just for publicity? He's supposed to pop out sometime during the tour to scare people maybe? My mother had said something about a ghost…

"Yes. My name is Erik."

Wait a second, I got it now. This guy simply talks in third person. Wonderful.

"Well… Erik… If you'd be so kind as to put me down and lead me back up to the surface, I'll forget that you almost tried to kill me and won't have your boss fire you." I shot him a sarcastic smile, hoping he would buy it and take me upstairs so I could do just the opposite of what I promised.

"Mademoiselle," He spoke, "you are the one who trespassed into Erik's home. It's your own fault that you are in this predicament." His voice told me he got some sick amusement from this whole thing. "Also, I do not work for the people here, they work for me."

"Okay, I get it. This has got to be some sick joke."

"This is no joke Mademoiselle." He said simply, hosting me up over the ledge and setting me down, though not bothering to remove or even loosen the rope around my wrist.

I rolled my eyes. "You mean to tell me that in this country they allow basement dwelling noose wielding psychopaths to own an-"

"-Why do you not look at Erik in horror and run away?"

My eye gave a few short twitches in response to his question, which had come out of his mouth dead serious, while my mouth hung open mid word. I felt one shoulder drop as the weight of this idiotic conversation began to take its toll.

I took a deep breath, stood back up to full height, looked him straight in the eye, and said very curtly "I'm leaving now." Before turning on my heel, completely forgetting about the rope still wrapped around my wrist and marching away.

My trapped wrist jerked back unexpectedly, yanking me backwards and sending me sprawling and my head slamming painfully into the stone floor.

I opened my eyes as the throbbing ebbed a bit and saw Erik standing over me.

"You haven't answered Erik's question yet, Mademoiselle." He raised the single eyebrow that his mask wasn't hiding.

"And I won't answer Erik's question until I'm back in the lobby." I huffed, moving myself into a sitting position and glaring up at him.

I expected him to agree to the proposition, after all he seemed like a rather simple creature, but of course as I've found many people to do, he proved me wrong.

"Mademoiselle, I'm sorry to say, I can't allow that."

That was a total change in attitude, and there was a severe lack of "Erik" in that sentence. He turned away from me toward the dimly lit corridors that led away from the lake, tugging the rope that was around my wrist like I was some sort of dog. "Come along, Mademoiselle."

"Wait wait wait. What do you mean you can't allow that?" I snatched my hoodie off the floor as I jumped up from my seated position and chased after him. "And who are you telling to 'come along'?"

"You might tell them where Erik lives." He answered, staring straight ahead down the vast corridor that seemed to stretch on forever.

"Well I _might_ if you keep leading me the direction of your living area." I slowed and the tug of the rope around my wrist reminded me of its existence. I dug my nails under the braids pulled against the half-inch thick rope but it didn't budge. I quickened my pace to allow some slack between Erik and I and tried again. It felt like it was coming loose a little, but with all the pulling on the knot earlier, it had become impossibly tight.

Erik seemed to suspect what I was doing for he pulled on the rope so it was taut between us. I glared up at him.

"You realize…" I started into that threat without properly thinking up an actual threat.

"Erik realizes what?"

I hesitated a moment before something actually came to me. "My parents, they're here to see the Opera House, and they're quite possibly a little crazier than you. They'll probably send out a search party for me. With, I don't know, dogs and police with guns and-"

"Easily evaded in my catacombs." Erik responded without the slightest hint of concern in his voice.

And that's when I snapped. "Listen here you sorry excuse for a psychopath, you will free me and let me leave this building unharmed this instant or so help me!-"

He stopped mid-step and spun around bending down to get face to face with me within less than a second.

"Or so help you _what_, Mademoiselle." Without yelling, and with a rather sarcastic sounding tone he managed to strike so much fear into me that I contemplated not doing what I did next.

Which was to take a swing at him.

He caught my punch without even taking his eyes off my face. Though even as he caught my attack I could tell he was puzzled, to which I had no idea why. Not that I particularly had much time to think about it, the pain of my arm being forced to bend the wrong direction broke me from any contemplation of what he was thinking.

"Mademoiselle, you will quit this foolishness and act as your sex is supposed to act before you force Erik to do something uncivilized." With that he let go of my wrist and continued his journey to who knows where.

I seemed to have no sense of self-preservation I realize, for I continued to push the subject.

"You want me to 'act as my sex is supposed to act'? Pray tell what year do you think this is?" I snarled.

"1870, Mademoiselle." He said monotone and disinterested.

"Exactly! Now- wait what?" I stopped in my tracks, catching Erik by surprise and nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Mademoiselle! Please!" He said in an exasperated and borderline annoyed tone.

I held up my index finger to tell him to be quiet for a minute.

"I think I misheard you. You said it's 1970 right?... you really mean 2010."

Erik's expression turned from annoyed and exasperated to increasingly concerned. "Mademoiselle…what are you talking about? That's over 100 years from now."

"No it-" I was way past exasperated, and definitely frustrated. I couldn't think of exactly what to say so I settled for waving my free arm and babbling whatever came to mind. Which just so happened to be this; "Gaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh I'm talking to a madman, not only that but I'm arguing with a madman, we've been walking in circles for who knows how long and I'm arguing with a man who can hardly go a sentence without talking in third person and I think I'm actually going crazy too because I'm bothering to argue with him and-"

"Mademoiselle!" He called, snapping me from my lapse in sanity. The echos from his scream chanted at me for a good moment before they died down.

"I'm fine…" I squeaked.

"On second thought, Erik thinks you do need a breath of fresh air..." He said tugging on my wrist rope and leading us in a door that I swear wasn't there before. "…And perhaps a doctor…" He mumbled under his breath.

I decided, for the sake of what was left of my sanity, that I would not engage him in anymore arguments until I had someone else in their right mind present.

The corridor we were in now angled upwards, and this time as we ventured down it, it became brighter. The corridor opened up to a fairly small room with large arched windows. The windows weren't very high off the ground, but then the ceilings weren't very high in here either. Upon closer inspection it seemed we were a little below ground level.

Erik opened one of the windows and motioned for me to approach it. I did. I leaned against the window, enjoying the breeze and expecting the sounds that would prove we were in the early 2000's and not the late 1800s. I was expecting the roar of engines, the sounds of doors shutting, and the sound of the occasional horn. Instead something totally different reached my ears, the clip clop of hooves, the creak of someone exiting a buggy, and the occasional horse whinny. It was most confusing, if not downright disorienting.

I pulled my self up on the window ledge to better see out onto the streets. Horses and buggies clip clopped merrily down the cobble stone streets. Almost everyone was decked out in suits, dresses, hats, and canes. It was culture shock, actually era shock. I was no longer in the world of fast cars, MP3 players, bright lights, and technology as far as the eye could see, I was in the turn of the century, where an electric iron was still out-of-reach technology.

I could only find one thing to say;

"…shit, really?"

* * *

Two in the same... erm... -looks at clock- ... morning... yeah I don't think I'm sleeping tonight. =D Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3 Even crazy people have talent

In which I make due with my promise and this chapter also ends with a curse-word. XD I hope you enjoy!

Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston and many...many movie makers and authors.

* * *

Chapter 3

I looked out the basement window of the Opera Populare and into the streets of Paris. The previously paved roads, now cobble stone streets were alive with horses and buggies and men and women dressed in suits and petticoats. Children ran around, boys in shorts, girls in dresses, as horses clopped merrily down streets.

I stared outside in horror, and the only thing I could find to say in the midst of all this madness was; "…Shit, really?"

I'd like to say that at that point my cursing stopped there, but it really hadn't.

I don't remember what exactly happened between the window and the corner of the same room, but I do remember that when I realized what was going on again I was huddled in the corner rocking back and forth, and the profanities spewing out of my mouth would have made a sailor pray for my soul.

I heard Erick rush over to me, he had been saying something, but what it was I didn't have the faintest. I felt him grab my shoulders and shake me out of my lapse in sanity.

"MADEMOISELLE!" He finally broke through to me "Mademoiselle, I have no idea what happened between the window and here but you sound as if you're a deck hand on a shipyard. Get a hold of yourself." His voice was that of confusion and concern.

I pushed his hands away and took a deep breath. "My apologies… I…" I took another breath, gathering myself and forcing the tears that were burning at my eyes to stay back, I stood up. I sidestepped Erik, who was still crouched on the floor, and made my way toward the dark corridor that lead back to the underground lake.

"Where are you going?" I hear Erik's astonished voice behind me. I didn't bother looking his direction, but knew that he had stood up.

I paused "I... don't know... the lake maybe? Does it matter? You said I wasn't allowed to leave anyway, did you not?" I turned my head back to see his reaction. He stood there stupefied for a moment before silently walking around me to lead the way.

"To tell the truth," He huffed "in light of your peculiar actions, Erik figured he'd simply hand you over to La Daroga."

I was too upset to gather if he had been serious or not or to even ask who this La Daroga was. "Well if you had let me go earlier..."

"Mademoiselle would have had the same reaction, only sooner." He finished.

He was right. I sighed. The darkness surrounded us as we dove deeper into the catacombs, the only sound being our echoing footsteps and water dripping from the stone ceiling.

Finally Erik spoke. "Why has Mademoiselle changed her mind? What happened to threats of Mademoiselle's parents hunting down Erik."

"I lied." I hadn't... but... I didn't even want to bother thinking up something else. "I have no parents." That... that there... I don't know where that lie came from.

Erik was noticeably confused. Who wouldn't be? I just went from threatening his life if he didn't let me leave, to wanting to return to the depths of the opera house with my only excuse being that I had lied about having parents.

He asked me to clarify, but I didn't bother answering.

"Mademoiselle?" He asked as we entered a part of the catacombs that opened up into a small pond.

"Alexa." I corrected, being called Mademoiselle was getting a little bit annoying.

"...Alexa..." He corrected himself. "You never did answer my query. How is it you can look at Erik without fear?"

I looked at him, well rather, I looked at the back of his head. He seemed to be dreading my response, not wanting to see the look on my face as I answered... if I answered. I figured, he was either truly a nutter, it really was 2010, and I had been kidnapped, deceived, and I would die down here... the whole thing was a big sick joke... or that everything was true and this guy was severely lonely. Whichever it was, I went with this response;

"Sorry, Halloween masks stopped scaring me when I was five." I expected my sarcastic answer to piss him off in the least. But it didn't, in fact he didn't even bother to look at me after I had said it.

"It is not the mask that Erik expects you to be afraid of." He answered solemnly. His response took me aback. His tone of voice even more so.

"Well..." I sighed "As of this moment I have no reason to be afraid of you, so I'm not."

"I see." He said, stopping suddenly making me nearly run into him. I blinked a few times, snapping out of my daze, and looked around the room we were in. It was well lit, thanks to the many lit candles. An organ sat up a short set of steps and to the back. Farther away were three openings... rooms maybe? Or exits... I wasn't entirely sure from here. Papers were scattered everywhere, music sheets by the looks of it.

I stood there slack-jawed just staring at this beautiful little hide away. Erik had started talking, something about this was his home and it wasn't much... that sort of spiel. After a few minutes of no response, Erik gave up and went to do... whatever he normally did in this place. I eventually snapped out of my stupefied stare and followed him up to the main part of his cavern, finding a spot that I guessed would be well enough out of his way and settling there.

I plopped my damp hoodie, which I had slung over my shoulder when we had left the lake and hadn't moved since, onto the floor, and then plopped myself on top of it. A hard stone floor wasn't the most comfortable place in the world, but my old worn out hoodie provided me at least some comfort.

Out of habit I searched my pockets for my MP3 player, and upon finding it —to, I'm sure, everyone's surprise— I turned it on to see if it had survived its watery adventure. The screen blinked to life and I placed one ear-bud to my ear, expecting the worst.

To my joy music flowed out of the little speakers. I didn't even think about how this was a knock against it being the early 1900s or anything. But I did give a glance around to make sure that Erik wasn't looking at me like I was nuts or anything, he was in his own little world doing this and that. So I placed both ear-buds in my ears and closed my eyes, letting the music take me away to wherever it wished.

:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:ERIK'S POV:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*:_:*

I had know idea what I was going to do with this mademoiselle. She had to be crazier than anyone I had ever seen. I had captured her thinking she was going to be an actual threat to me, someone who worked for La Firmin or Andre and was sent to spy on me or something of the sort. Those two had been immense thorns in my side since they had gotten here. But at this moment that was neither here nor there.

The girl's clothes I had ignored, brushing them off as a new costume for a new opera, but the way the girl spoke and behaved were to the contrary of how young girls such as herself were supposed to act. In normal conversation her manner of speaking was ordinary, her choice of words a little odd, but it seemed to me that the young always did something like that to the language. A form of rebellion nothing more. But when the girl was put in a form of distress she'd spew forth all manner of profanities, as if she was born and raised on a shipyard. Not only that, but the mademoiselle actually resorted to violence. She acted more like a boy than, I thought, would have even been allowed of her sex in the city of Paris.

For that matter, her mental condition didn't seem all that stable, she didn't even know what year it was. I had planned to let her leave, let her be the city's problem. Someone else's besides my own. The last thing I needed was an insane girl loose in my opera house, and that was the last thing I had intended to let happen.

Yet here she was, in my home. The thought of Punjabbing her had crossed my mind, but aside from her dodging my rope twice before, I couldn't figure out what was keeping me from making another attempt at her life.

I hurried around my home, doing this and that, wondering what I was going to do with this girl. I could hand her over to La Daroga. He could take her to an insane asylum or something. Though in all honesty I could do that myself as soon as it became dark... or could I? I looked over at the girl, sitting in a corner, back against the wall, her eyes were closed and she seemed in her own little world. Would the thing stopping me from killing her stop me from leaving her on an asylum's doorstep?

I looked over at her again, she didn't seem to have a care in the world, she wasn't even paying attention to me now, not to anything at all. I could kill her right now before she even knew what was happening. Then again I could have conceivably killed her at any moment as we walked through the catacombs. So why?

Pushing my questions to the back of my mind, I could find out answers for them later, I went back to what I was doing... whatever it was that I was doing... then... the girl started singing.

I stopped mid stride and turned to look at the mademoiselle. She still sat, eyes closed, in the corner. I didn't recognise the song she sang from anywhere, but from what I could gather the language was English. The tune was odd, but her singing not all that bad. Unpolished, certainly, but she showed talent.

My mind spun to life and I was in front of her in an instant. Looming over her you could say. Was this the reason I couldn't kill her? Was this why she was brought to me? There was no way in heaven or hell I could let this talent go to waste. She felt my presence and her voice faded into nothing as her eyes opened and gave me a look of surprise, and perhaps... fear?

"Alexa." My voice came out more intimidating than I had originally meant. "Erik must have a word with you." Her eyes became wide at my words, and then switched to her usual defiant, challenging gaze. I certainly had my work cut out for me with this one.

Merde.

* * *

Kind of short. But such a beautiful place to end. I hope you enjoyed it! =D Until next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4 booby traps for boobies

Chapter 4. =D Look I finally got it up.

Blah blah do not own etc. etc. ENJOY!

* * *

Singing lessons. I'm almost killed, kidnapped, time-traveled, and after all that he wanted to give me singing lessons?

And honestly, after the initial shock, I wasn't really buying the time-traveling bit. For all I knew a film was going on or a reenactment. It couldn't really be the 1870s.

I digress, and needless to say, I declined the offer. He argued, and tried to get me to sing anyway… and then suddenly he gave up. He apparently had a pressing engagement to attend to because he left, so suddenly that by the time I registered his absence he was barely visible on the lake in the distance.

It took me a second to realize… THIS WAS MY CHANCE. With him gone, for whatever length of time, I could make an escape.

I assumed he had various entrances to his little on-the-lake hideout, but I couldn't figure out where, and the way we came in (which was by land) was now gone. He had to have sliding walls and a manner of different things to do that, and finding the triggers for them would take to long, which meant the only exit was the one he took.

Across the lake.

I frowned. This was going to be a miserable swim. I went to jump in, and hesitated. My pants unzipped at the knee. By turning my pants into shorts I wouldn't get tangled up as I swam.

So that's what I did.

Swimming was quite a bit easier in shorts, but I was still weighed down a bit by my clothes. I swam slowly, diving under water or hiding behind support beams whenever I saw a shadow move.

I made it to the edge of the lake without getting caught… or even seeing my captor for that matter. But it didn't really matter. The entrance to the catacombs was right in front of me. I dove in without hesitating.

I was a little less careful as I tore through the labyrinth of stone but in the end it paid off. I found myself at a giant stone staircase that seemed to go on forever, but most definitely went through to the Opera Populaire's main floor.

I was about to take a step, and remembered that this guy had configured hidden doorways, what would stop him from having booby traps? I backed up a few feet, took a running start, and cleared the first three steps. From there I ran and jumped, praying that I wouldn't hit any booby-trapped steps. I hit a landing and paused to take a breath. I was almost there!

Once I had caught my breath back I proceeded, but when I stepped into the middle of the landing the floor beneath my feet disappeared and I plummeted into a body of water.

I broke the surface. The stagnant water left the room smelling horrible. It was a small stone room, there was a ledge off to the side, and a gate, dropping from the ceiling at an impressive rate. A very frightening rate rather, I definitely wouldn't be able to make it to the ledge in time to save myself. Time for a plan B.

I took a deep breath and dove underwater, praying for a way to stop the gate from killing me. I opened my eyes. Looking around for something, anything out of place. Out to my right was a wheel and axel lever. That should do something.

I broke the surface of the water again, the gate was now arm's length away from me, I took a deep breath before diving back underwater. The gate dropped below the surface right behind me as I sped toward the lever. I grabbed it near the top with both hands and pulled, it didn't budge. I tried the other direction, nothing. I went back and forth like this. The gate stopped dropping about a foot below the water's surface and I was running low on air, and thus running low on strength.

I gave one last ditch effort. Pulling on the lever as hard as I could, and with that, the last of my energy was gone, along with my last morsel of air. I fought to keep myself from inhaling water, my vision dimmed, then nothing.

I woke by the shock of cold air hitting my wet body, I felt myself drop against a stone floor, and as soon as I did I pushed myself up onto all fours and threw up all the water that I had consumed.

It was after I was done throwing up the contents of my stomach that I finally noticed the person who saved me. Though from my position on the ground I could only see black.

"Mademoiselle, I get the distinct impression that you have a death wish." It was Erik.

When I rolled my eyes up to get a look at him—there wasn't much else I could do from here, especially with my limbs fighting to hold me up as it was—they attempted to roll back into my skull.

"and?" I squeaked.

He sighed in response and I was taken back to the little hideout on the lake. Actually to be more specific, I was taken to the little hideout, into the back room with the locked door, and left there in a room. I think. It was dark inside, above me was a sky of stars, below me, sand, and around me, sand as far as the eye could see. The only thing breaking up the monotony of sand, was one lone metal tree.

I looked behind me at the door. Well, where the door was, now there was just more sand, and a cloak.

My body gave a shiver, making me realize that it was, in fact, cold in here, and I was soaking wet. I pulled the cloak over me and scooted closer to the tree.

"Hello tree." I mumbled. "You know of any way out of here?" I waited for an answer, and of course none came. "Me neither." I reached into my pocket and came up empty. My MP3 was gone.

I sighed, leaning myself up against the tree and stared at the stars until they all blurred away and I fell asleep.

Damn it, why me?

* * *

Until next time, everyone! =D


End file.
